I am in a very instable relationship right now. It has been going on for years, and it has become too big a part in my life to let go. I know that our relationship is bad. Terrible actually and getting a little worse every day. But I also know that it almost impossible to let go and change things. It is a relationship that has consumed my life in an almost indulgent way. It moved in my life a long time ago which incredible force and does not plan on leaving, even after I had said, out loud in fact, that things were going to change. It’s has truly taken over me in ways that affect my work, my friends, my family and myself. I have to end it. I know it too. My relationship with Food…is extremely unhealthy (pun intended. Wait is that a even a pun?). I have always known that my relationship with Food was no good and dare I say cruel? I have no intention on finishing that plate of fries that came with my order but it screams at me. “Bitch Please! Eat them all!” And I find myself obeying even thought I told myself that I was only going to have a few. I try to stop myself a few times but Food is not having anything and is even madder now, if at all possible. “What did I just tell you? I told you to eat all of them! IF you stop again, this is only going to get harder. It’s only going to get worse. Try it. I double dog dare you.” And then the plate is clean. I don’t even remember it happening. Had I blacked out? Food smirks at me because it knows that it won. Fries are usually the biggest problem. Breakfast foods are worse though because they gang up on me as a team and do it when I am weakest. The worst and most abusive of them all… is chocolate. I have tried to say no to chocolate my entire life but the sneaky little bastard will never go away. Even when it is not there, I think about it. I dream about it. I even fantasize about it. I know, it’s sick. Chocolate has taken control over most of my life and it knows it too. Chocolate knows that I will never say no to it and that is the problem and the source of most of my own issues. The problem is that I don’t hate it. I don’t had any of them. I love them and that is the problem. I love them too much to say good-bye. Also, they will always be there. I cannot get away as much as I would like to. There is an irresistible factor that comes with food that is the main driving point of this relationship. It’s beautiful, it smells intoxicating, you know you are going to feel good while you are with it. All I want is to be able to let go but I know deep in my heart, I am pretty much stuck in this relationship and it will always be a part of me for the rest of my life. They say that acceptance is the first step in admitting you have a problem. Well I accept that I have this problem, now please excuse me. I need to go get something warm, deep friends and covered in chocolate.

I am 100% guilty of what I have started to call text blasting and I am hoping that I am not the only one. I have never been one of those people with lots of friends, not that I am completely friendless but I am not one of those people that leave their phone at home accidently and come back an hour later to find 20 text messages. The thing about text messages, at least for me, is that they are little bits of instant gratification. Even if it’s just friend asking if I want to get coffee this weekend or furthermore just my mom asking if I got to work safely, I get this tiny little warm feeling in my heart, which sounds absolutely lame but whatever.

I don’t know for sure why this happens but it does. Now, something that I really like about myself is that I am not attached to my electronic devices. Sure I am obsessive about other things in my life like always having the materials to make cupcakes in my pantry or never putting a book down in the middle of a chapter but I am infamous for missing phone calls because I left my phone is a completely different room of the house I am hanging out it. A lot of the people I hang out with are like that actually. But most of these people, my brother included, will come back and see that they have several text messages while if I’m lucky, I might get a butt dial from my grandfather followed up with a 5 minute long voicemail from inside his pocket. Not I know I sound like a hypocrite, and that’s because I 100% am. I criticize those who are too attached to their phones and am jealous of them at the same time. So what do I do instead that is totally embarrassing and really sad. I text blast. I am actually cringing at myself as I write this.

What I do is, I will text as many people as I can about trivial things at the same time. Parents, friends, coworkers, no one is safe. Sometimes it’s reasonable like “Haven’t heard from you in a while, how are you?” or “Just wanted to say hi! How are classes going?” more often though it’s a white lie “Hey, I don’t remember, are we getting dinner Wed or Thurs?” even though the date is circled on my calendar. Mostly, it’s just a meme or picture of an animal wearing human clothes that I found on Instagram with basically no purpose at all. I will send these text messages all in a row and then turn my phone upside down and walk away for a little. When I come back there will be a list of text messages waiting for me and my heart swells with happiness. I know, this is absolutely convoluted and incredibly stupid and I don’t know why I do this. Also to clarify, this isn’t a daily or weekly thing! This is a once every 2 or 3 months sort of thing (not that it makes it any better but still). The feeling I get is like when I go on a diet. I will do really well for weeks, eating veggies and exercising more but then it will be that one Saturday where instead of going to the gym, I give in and eat an entire pizza by myself. I won’t text blast for almost a month and then I can’t help myself. In the moment, it feels so awesome but later on I will ask myself “was that really necessary”. I feel like I need to go to group therapy about this. Not that it’s a serious enough problem but I would like to know that I’m not the only one out there like this. Do other people do this? Is it just me? Should I just sit in the corner all by my weird and creepy self?

I am addicted to coffee, that itself is no secret. Tea and soda do almost nothing for me but a good strong cup of freshly brewed coffee gives me life. However, there was a short period of time in my life when I gave up coffee. It wasn’t during lent and it wasn’t because I was on some crazy diet. It was because of one specific event in my life that still makes me cringe when I think about it.

I was a young college student just about to go into my organic chemistry class. Heavy backpack slung over my shoulder, dark circles under my eyes and a cup of coffee from the library Greenberry’s in my hand. I was exhausted and grumpy. Orgo was my hardest class at school and every time I walked into that little room I felt like the life was literally being sucked out of me. Begrudgingly, I found an empty seat and pulled down that awkward retractable desk so I could set my coffee down. Class began as usual and about half way through, I had to pee. One of the more unfortunate side effects of caffeine is it how it makes me have to run to the bathroom round the clock. Not wanted to make too much of a distraction, I thought the best thing for me to do was place my coffee on ground and duck out under my desk. I sunk out and when I returned and sat down, I saw that my peer next to me was staring at me. It wasn’t one of those day dream stares or even one of those “why do you always seem to have to pee during this class?” stares. It was one of… oh what’s the word…Pity. “What?” I whispered. He stared for a another second, as if your effect. “Your coffee fell.”

I felt my heart drop as one important fact flashed through my mind, almost like one of these NCIS flashbacks when they review the scene of the crime. Our classroom is at a downward slant that goes all the way down to the ground. I looked down and saw my coffee tipped over and pouring dark liquid down in-between the seats of all of the people in front of me before landing in a little pool right at the base of the backpack of a girl in the front row. First, I was really irritated at my peer. “Why didn’t you do anything?” I hissed as I grabbed my coffee to put it right side up. He shrugged. “Wasn’t my coffee.” Okay, seriously?! At that moment he lost 1000 human decency point in my book but I didn’t have enough time to be pissed. People had begun to notice and turning at pointing at me. I tried to signal at the girl in the front row with no avail. So I waited until class was over and then I sprinted to the girl, spurting out apologizes and offering to clean it up and pay for any damages. She was having none of it, made some condescending comment that I blocked out of my memory and walked away with her friend who gave me evil eyes. Understandably so, I probably would have done the same thing but at the moment I wanted to crawl under one of those desks and just die.

I know, a bit of an exaggeration. Especially since now, I can think of at least 10 things I could have done that would have been better than just sitting at my desk, waiting for the class to end/hoping that the problem would somehow fix itself. Because that’s how the real world works right? If you ignore the problem at hand, one day you will be able to look back at it and hate yourself forever. That’s what being an adult is all about.

A little more than a year ago I tried baking my first cake from scratch. Well, I guess a few years before that, I helped a friend make chocolate chip cookies from scratch at one point… but I digress. The point is, that once you go scratch, you never go back. There is something oddly satisfying about making something completely by myself. I mean I’m not growing the wheat and grinding it myself, and I’m not milking the cow and I’m not churning the butter and I’m definitely not laying the eggs (or at least any I can use) but I still had to crack the eggs and melt the butter and buy the sugar and flour (with money).

Whenever there was a birthday or a holiday (any holiday, I think I once backed a cake for Labor Day) or sometimes when I just wanted cake, I used to buy good old Betty Crocker mix and let it do its thing. But then one day I said “Wait”. I wish I could tell some amazing story of how I saw an inspiring cooking show, or how I found an old mythical magical baking book and had to go on an adventure in order to find a substitute for unicorn hair (it’s coconut oil if anyone was wondering) but alas, I do not have such a tale. I cannot even remember what made me bake that cake in the first place. I just did it. And I was never more proud of myself. That sounds kind of obnoxious but this is coming from someone who burned off half of her eyebrows one time trying to make stovetop ramen. This soon became my stress outlet. Yes, I became a stress baker which was a surprising nice kink to have during my final examinations.

I should make it clear though that not everything I baked turned out amazing. There were definitely some major screw ups that have almost destroyed friendships. These was one time I tried to bake with some new found friends as a bonding activity and either the milk or the eggs had gone bad because those cupcakes were so gross. Thank goodness this also coincided with “wine night” and someone was already drunk before the cupcakes were even in the oven. She ate maybe 4 or 5 of those cupcakes that tasted like gasoline claiming they were absolutely delicious. Hey, I mean I still call it a victory. The point is, if you need a new hobby to try out or a want to give yourself a new skill to brag about or you just want cake, I suggest baking from scratch. And if your first creation does not go that well, just remember it’s okay. You can also drink a few glasses of wine and taste it again. It might not have been as bad as you thought it was.